Wild Rapture

So many worries flashed through her consciousness.

Had only one brave and Nee-kah survived an attack on the Sioux?

Was Echohawk even now lying in the snow, dead?

A sob lodged in her throat. Afraid to hear the answers, yet knowing that she must, Mariah tore from the wigwam and ran through the ankle-deep snow until she reached Nee-kah, who was being helped to her wigwam.

“Nee-kah, oh, thank God, Nee-kah,” Mariah said, clutching Nee-kah into her arms, giving her a fierce hug. “I was so worried about you.”

“I am fine,” Nee-kah said, smiling up at Mariah as she stepped away from her. “I am like you. Strong-willed and able to fend quite well for myself.”

“Echohawk?” Mariah asked, her pulse racing. “Where is Echohawk? Where is Silver Wing?”

Nee-kah’s eyes wavered. “When I last saw them, they were well,” she said, then grabbed at her abdomen when another pain assaulted her. “But they now will be fighting the Sioux,” she breathed out between clenched teeth, her eyes closed. “I so fear for our Chippewa braves!”

Mariah was quickly alarmed when she recognized the pain that Nee-kah was in, and how sweat was pearling on her lovely copper brow, even though the temperature was way below freezing.

Though her every heartbeat belonged to Echohawk, Mariah was thrown into worries about her friend, knowing that even though Nee-kah had another full

month before the time of her child’s delivery, it had been as Mariah had earlier feared: the trauma forced upon Nee-kah could cause an early labor.

“Let me help you into your dwelling,” Mariah said, taking Nee-kah by an arm, slowly walking her to the entrance flap. “I can tell you’re in pain. Nee-kah, it’s the baby, isn’t it?”

“Ay-uh,” Nee-kah said, brushing the entrance flap aside, gingerly stepping inside, every footstep seemingly causing the pains to increase in intensity. “It is the baby.” She turned wild eyes to Mariah. “It is too early, No-din. Do you know any white-people secrets that can make the pains of child-birthing stop? I . . . I fear birthing my child early. If anything should happen to the child . . .”

Mariah helped Nee-kah to her sleeping platform beside the fire. She was aware of much commotion behind her, and out of the corners of her eyes saw many women coming into the wigwam, each carrying assorted items to be used during the birthing procedure.

She turned her full attention back to Nee-kah when Nee-kah grabbed at her stomach again and screamed, her color paling. “Let’s get your cloak off, and then your dress,” Mariah said, trying to keep herself calm, though her heart was pounding with fear. She had never even seen a small baby before, much less helped bring one into the world.

But of course she saw that she was not needed at all. Nee-kah was soon surrounded by many women looking down at her adoringly. They had come to help. They had all the knowledge necessary to help Nee-kah deliver the baby.

After Mariah had Nee-kah undressed and a blanket drawn over her up to her armpits, she stepped aside and watched as the women began their ritual of assisting Nee-kah as her labor pains came more frequently, now scarcely seconds apart.

“Silver Wing,” Nee-kah cried, her eyes wild as one of the women slipped her hand up the birthing canal, trying to help the baby move through it. “My husband! Oh, Silver Wing! If you were only here!”

Nee-kah turned frightened eyes to the circle of women. “No-din!” she said, her voice quavering. “Where . . . is No-din?”

Two of the women stepped aside and made a space for Mariah at Nee-kah’s side. Mariah smoothed her hand over Nee-kah’s perspiration-laced brow. “What can I do?” she murmured. “I . . . I feel so helpless.”

“Just hold my hand,” Nee-kah said, circling her fingers around Mariah’s hand. “Just . . . hold . . . my hand, sweet friend.”

“I wish I could do more,” Mariah said, holding tightly to Nee-kah’s hand as Nee-kah squeezed her fingers into Mariah’s, once again crying out with pain as she bore down.

“Surely it won’t be long,” Mariah said, yet greatly fearing the early birth. “And, Nee-kah, just you wait and see. Your child will be healthy, like its mother and father.”

“It . . . is . . . coming!” Nee-kah cried, grunting as she bore down again, harder . . . harder. . . .

And soon the child was lying in the hands of one of the Chippewa maidens, proving its lungs were of adequate capacity with wails that reached far from the wigwam to the outside, into the early-morning air.

“It is a son!” Mariah said as the child was held high for all to see. She leaned down into Nee-kah’s face, Nee-kah having momentarily fainted from the trauma of the delivery. “Nee-kah,” she whispered, brushing a kiss across Nee-kah’s cheek. “You and Chief Silver Wing have a son!”

Mariah’s joy was short-lived when Nee-kah did not awaken abruptly, but still lay in what seemed some sort of comatose state.

Her fingers trembling, Mariah placed them at the vein of Nee-kah’s neck. Tears of relief flooded her eyes when she felt a very steady pulsebeat there. Nee-kah’s eyes fluttered open and she looked around her, still stunned and confused.

When her gaze fell on the small bundle being held by one of the Chippewa women, her son now wrapped in a blanket, Nee-kah swallowed back a choking sob and held her arms out to the child.

“Let me see my baby,” she murmured, her voice weak.